Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from East Timor and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Cecil Taylor to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Sparks,
Desert Stars,
Slick Rick,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tropical Tobacco,
Symarip,
Franke,
Gichy Dan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Malaria!,
Todd Rundgren,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Main Source,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Moleskins,
Talk Talk,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
T.S.O.L.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Matthew Bourne,
Rekid,
Loose Ends,
The Cowsills,
Joy Division,
Godley & Creme,
Joey Negro,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Glenn Branca,
Donald Byrd,
Chris & Cosey,
Hoover,
Marshall Jefferson,
cv313,
Bauhaus,
Anakelly,
Fat Boys,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roger Hodgson,
Eve St. Jones,
Carl Craig,
Nick Fraelich,
Gabor Szabo,
The Martian,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joensuu 1685,
Hasil Adkins,
Masters at Work,
Sun City Girls,
Jacob Miller,
The Smiths,
Bootsy Collins,
Flash Fearless,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mr. Review,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.